


Inked Upon My Heart

by Drindalis



Series: 'Reddie For Anything' Soulmate AU [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Asexual Mike Hanlon, Bisexual Eddie Kaspbrak, Canonical Character Death, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Gay Richie Tozier, Homophobic Slurs, Hurt/Comfort, Last words, M/M, Mike WILL GET LOVE DAMMIT, Pansexual Beverly Marsh, Pansexual Bill Denbrough, Period Typical Homophobia, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, The Soulmate AU Nobody Needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:10:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12766749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drindalis/pseuds/Drindalis
Summary: In a world where your soulmate's last words to you appear on your skin on your thirteenth birthday, Eddie is quietly panicking over his, which reads, "Don't talk, don't talk, you're gonna be fine." Not exactly the last words he was hoping for.Richie teases him about being so worked up over it, and Eddie puts it out of his mind. At least until Richie's thirteenth birthday when he comes to school with a pale face and his arm tightly covered in bandages, not meeting anyone's eyes and avoiding the asthmatic boy like the plague.Eddie decides to get to the bottom of it.





	1. The Reveal

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god why am I doing a soulmate AU what is wrong with me. *bangs head against the wall* Oh well, here you go anyway. 
> 
> So in this world, on your thirteenth birthday, your soulmate's last words will show up as a soulmark. If there is any identifying information in the mark, it remains blurred until the other soulmate turns 13. The marks don't have to be in the same place but are often a matching color. Hopefully I explain it well enough in the story, but if not just drop a comment and I'll answer any questions you may have. Thanks!

Eddie bit his lip on his thirteenth birthday as Bev gently pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal his fresh soulmark, having appeared between his shoulder blades at midnight of that very day. It was written in a slightly messy font, the letters alternatively scrunched up and spaced out awkwardly. Figures he'd have a soulmate with sloppy handwriting, but he felt oddly protective of it anyway. It looked kind of familiar to him, too, but not quite matching up to anything he could remember. The Losers all crowded around to see, oohing and ahhing at the deep black color. 

Bev squinted, looking up at Eddie, and looking nervous. "Don't talk, don't talk, you're gonna be fine." She read aloud, ignoring the small smudged out word at the end of the mark. If there were names in the last words, anything identifiable, it would only show up once the other soulmate had turned thirteen.

Eddie nodded, looking slightly sick. "Yeah. Um, not exactly the last words I was hoping for." He admitted with a small chuckle. It came out sounding slightly hysterical. He had run through every scenario in his head about what circumstances would lead to frantic last words like that, and none of them were good.

Mike patted Eddie's shoulder, trying to comfort him. "Don't worry, Eddie, I'm sure it's not like what you're thinking. And hey, at least you have a soulmark."

Eddie flinched and looked over at Mike somewhat guiltily. The older boy had turned thirteen and no mark had appeared. That usually only happened when you died alone, or if your soulmate didn't live to age thirteen. "Sorry, Mike."

"Don't worry about it, it's okay." he said softly, even as Stan and Bill poked their heads over Eddie's shoulder to read it better.

"Hey, there's a smear, at least. So your soulmate probably said something identifiable. That means when she turns thirteen, you'll probably have better luck finding her than me and Bill will." Stan said, tugging the collar of his shirt aside so his pale green mark was visible. It started at his collarbone and dipped down over his chest, written in tight and neat cursive. _'Who was it, honey?'_ didn't exactly give Stan a lot of information.

Bill nodded and raised his shirt so they could read his, etched along his ribs in a faint silver color, in gorgeous loopy writing, like the autograph of a movie star. _'I love you so much, Bill.'_ The sentiment was sweet but again, didn't make it easy to figure out who his soulmate was. His mark had a blurry smudge where his name was until exactly four months and three days after his birthday, so at least he could figure out her own birthday and use that to help figure out who it was. Silver soulmarks were somewhat uncommon, too, so he might be able to tell for sure based on a matching silver color. "Yuh-yeah, but d-don't worry, Eddie, I-I'm shuh-sure that y-you'll know who it is suh-soon."

Eddie sighed and nodded, Richie grinning and poking the other boy in his side. "Hey, Spaghetti Man, maybe she calls you a kinky nickname or something. That'd be funny, if you had 'Sex Lord' or something printed on your arm forever."

Eddie swatted him, covering up his wrist and grumbling. "Oh God, shut _up,_ you're awful. Anything would be better than Spaghetti Man, at least."

Ben spoke up suddenly, looking thoughtful. "Who says it has to be a girl? You guys keep assuming his soulmate is a woman, but Eddie is bisexual. Nowadays it's more common for gay couples to actually be together without hiding, so it's not impossible his soulmate is a man."

Eddie let his head flop onto the table. "Oh, God, you're right, I've got twice as many people to consider...!"

Richie cackled and was promptly hit over the head lightly with Beverly's planner. "Hey, I'll have it easy, then, only one gender to dig through." He shot a wink at Bill, the only one of the Losers he had officially come out as gay to, so far, at least. Bill gave him a small, supportive smile in return.

Richie was actually one of the youngest of the group, after Eddie but before Ben. Richie's birthday was the following week, and Ben's a month and a half after that.

"Don't rub it in!" Eddie whined, resting his head in his hand and reaching back to rub his fingers over the smudge at the end of the quote on his back, as if that would make it reveal the name.

"Doesn't work, Eds, trust me, I've tried." Beverly teased, the deep red soulmark on her shoulder a complete blur. It was pretty common for the last words someone heard from their soulmate to just be their own name, but this smudge was too long for that. There would be no way to tell what it read until her soulmate turned thirteen.

Richie could see Eddie was still looking glum, so he pinched his cheek hard. 

"Ow, dude, what the fuck!?"

"Figures that even up to the end of your life you'd be rattling on so much that your soulmate's gotta tell you to be quiet."

"Richie!" Ben and Stan hissed, looking scandalized, but Eddie just laughed.

"Shut up, you total ass!"

Richie grinned, continuing on. "I bet your soulmate's got a paragraph covering their entire body, it's probably something like," he pitched his voice higher and wrung his hands, "Did you know that the average funeral home doesn't wash their tables in between patients, what if I somehow contract some random illness and come back as a zombie? Can you promise to have them cut my head off after the funeral so I don't haunt the streets of Derry for the rest of my afterlife, also I want to be buried with my fanny pack and a gallon of hand sanitizer, and don't invite my mom to the funeral or else she's gonna have an aneurism and then try to crawl in the casket with me."

Ben and Mike snickered into their hands as Eddie stood up and chased Richie out of the lunchroom, a grin on his face even as he brandished his math book like a weapon. He didn't seem so bothered about his mark after that.

* * *

It was 11:57 pm, the night before Richie's birthday. He sat up late despite having school the next day, having stripped himself down to his boxers. The dark haired teen was impatiently checking his body over, (as if the mark would appear three minutes early) and nervous, despite himself. 

What if something went wrong with it? 

What if the whole thing was just a smudge, like Beverly's?

Oh, _God,_ what if his was normal and when he went to school the next day, Beverly's mark was clear? There were worse people to end up with as a soulmate, for sure, and Bev was the shit, but he wasn't straight and she clearly had a thing for Ben anyway.

What if he was like Mike, and he sat there waiting around like an idiot for a mark that would never appear? He found himself realizing just how awful that must have been for Mike, and decided he needed to give the older boy a hug ASAP.

His wrist was beginning to tingle, snapping him out of his thoughts. _'Okay, this is it-!'_ Richie thought, tugging his wrist close to his face and staring at it intently.

Beautiful dark black ink seemed to ripple across his skin, blooming open like a flower. The script was loose and flowing, beautifully neat and even cursive handwriting that seemed to grow shaky as it got towards the end of the mark.

Richie stared.

He stared again, heart leaping slightly in his chest.

For, emblazoned upon his wrist, read the words; _'Richie, please. For the last time, don't call me Spaghetti Man. You know how I...'_

He realized somewhat hysterically that wherever Eddie was right now, the blurred out section of his mark would have now clearly read 'Spaghetti Man', and oh, Eddie's going to kick his ass for that, if he doesn't punch him in the face first.

Richie laughs lightly to himself and traces the mark with one finger slowly, reverently, before something occurs to him and he freezes.

Eddie's mark read _"Don't talk, don't talk, you're going to be fine, Spaghetti Man."_ That implied that whatever had happened that would ultimately kill Eddie was unexpected, or quick. And since Richie was his soulmate, and was present at the time of his death...

_"Suh-sometimes you j-joke too m-much."_

Oh God.

What if...what if whatever happened to Eddie was his fault?

He could see it now, he would try to do something stupid, Eddie would, as usual, try and stop him. Only for whatever reason, this time it was Eddie who was hurt.

What else could the marks mean?! The words 'Don't talk, don't talk, you're gonna be fine' didn't exactly sound like what you would say to your spouse of many years as they lay dying peacefully after a long life. He had seen Eddie's soulmark, seen the way the handwriting ( _his_ handwriting) had gotten sloppier and more frantic towards the end.

His fingers dug into the black ink of the mark and he flinched in pain, almost wishing he could just tear it off. Even having no soulmark would be better than this, than knowing that he would cause his best friend's _(soulmate's)_ death.

He found some bandages and began to wrap them around his wrist and forearm, making sure they were secured. It wasn't uncommon for people with their marks in visible areas to keep them hidden for privacy. Hell, they sold special makeup that wouldn't rub off that would keep it hidden. 

_'Better get some of that shit soon.'_ Richie thought somewhat hysterically, examining the wrapping and deeming it acceptable. He couldn't bear to look at the mark, permanently in the corner of his vision whenever his right arm came into view. 

He knew what he had to do to protect Eddie, and he desperately didn't want to.

He had to leave Eddie alone, stop hanging around with him entirely. Eddie was like a drug, and every time Richie saw him smile or laugh it was like he could do anything. He loved everything about the other boy, from the way he obsessively wiped things down with sanitizing towelettes to the way his nose scrunched up when Richie made a nasty joke. But it wasn't worth it, wasn't fair to Eddie for him to be selfish and force his company upon the shorter boy if it would eventually lead to his death. 

Soulmarks could change, eventually, such as if you never met your soulmate or the circumstances of your life changed. He would have to break off his friendship with Eddie until they changed, no matter how long it took. No matter how much it made him want to scream and cry and weep that it wasn't _fair!_

Richie couldn't be selfish.

He just couldn't do it. Even if it meant he was miserable for the rest of his life, at least Eddie would still be _alive._

The phone on his nightstand began to ring, but Richie just walked out out of his room. If he happened to wait to come back until after it stopped, well, that was his business, wasn't it?


	2. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie doesn't know what he's done for Richie to suddenly start ignoring him out of nowhere, but it's really hurt his feelings. Will they ever be friends again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyo, peoples. Just want to give you all a heads up, there is a bullying scene that gets a little intense. Warnings for homophobic slurs because Henry Bowers' gang are all a bunch of assholes.
> 
> * * *

Richie was acting strange.

The Losers had planned a similar 'mini' birthday party at the lunch table like they had for Eddie. They had even made him a cake, his favorite flavor, chocolate, with rainbow icing and sprinkles that read 'Happy Birthday, Trashmouth!'. But Richie didn't show up for lunch. Eddie knew that he was at school, had seen his bike at the rack that morning before he got there. Usually they rode their bikes to school together...

That should have been the first sign something wasn't right. Eddie reached back to scratch lightly at his back, huffing to himself. Richie was never early, and he had been talking about his birthday for weeks prior. So for him to just ditch out...? Something must be up.

It wasn't just that, however. Eddie had waved at him in the hallway that morning, smiling, and Richie had simply stared at him sadly before walking away. Hurt, Eddie slowly let his hand drop, and had wondered what was wrong, what he had _done._

His eyes widened as he realized the only thing that could make Richie avoid him.

He had found out that Eddie had a crush on him, somehow, and was disgusted by it.

Eddie couldn't blame him. Nobody wanted a short, asthmatic, hypochondriac with issues for a boyfriend, not when Richie was tall, hilarious, extremely good looking, and most importantly, _straight._ He didn't need to settle for a loser like him.

Had Stan told him about the crush? Or Bill? No, he trusted the both of them, but then, why...?

He wrung his hands and stared at the cake, untouched, biting his lip. "What if his dad hit him again?" He asked worriedly. The last time Richie had acted this way, he had shown up to school with a black eye that turned out to be from Wentworth in a drunken rage.

Bill's eyes widened. "I r-really huh-hope not. Shuh-Should we g-go look for huh-him?"

Ben nodded, slinging his backpack over his shoulders. "Somebody needs to take the cake back to the home economics room's fridge. We'll celebrate later." 

He shot a worried look at Mike, who only nodded. "Don't worry about me, I don't need a party. Let's focus on Richie, something's up." His words sparked several nods of agreement from the other Losers. 

Last night when Mike had been taking a shower, he had noticed that on his calf, the small brown smudge he had assumed was just a faint bruise or a small sunburn from working on the farm, had twisted into a single word. 

_Mike..._

He had called every Loser he could, but Richie never answered. Mike had panicked, wondering if Richie was his soulmate and didn't want to tell him. Stan had been the one to point out that one of the girls who went to synagogue with him had been anticipating her own birthday the same day as Richie's. Upon getting ahold of her, he had confirmed for the club that she had an earthy brown soulmark behind her ear that said, _'Don't cry, honey, it's okay.'_ Everyone had been thrilled for Mike, ecstatic that he actually had found his soulmate, so the party was supposed to be a celebration for that, too.

Eddie sighed somewhat wearily. "I'll take the cake back and then help you guys look. He's been avoiding me today. I don't....did I do something wrong...?" To his complete mortification, he could feel his throat getting tight and gulped, trying not to cry. This wasn't about him or his stupid feelings, this was about Richie.

Stan and Bill shared a look. "What do you mean, he's been avoiding you? He seemed totally fine around us earlier." Stan admitted, rubbing the back of his curly hair.

Eddie's heart plummeted to somewhere around his ankles. "Oh, _fuck,_ it is me, then. He's not mad at you guys, it's just _me."_

Bev bit her lip and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Eddie, hey, it's okay, sweetie, I'm sure he-"

He could feel the tears burning in the corners of his eyes and wiped them away quickly; standing and scooping up the cake. "I-I better put this away, l-leaving food at room temperature for long periods of time can cause molding...a-and..." He trailed off and left quickly, not giving any of them a chance to follow him. Eddie shifted the cake into one hand to itch his back somewhat miserably, before he kept walking towards the home ec room. 

As he turned the corner, however, he froze like a deer in headlights. Standing at the end of the hallway, almost like they were waiting for him, were Henry Bowers and Victor Criss.

 _'Fuck.'_ his mind supplied helpfully.

Henry smirked, shutting his locker door with a slam and turning his attention to Eddie. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the homo. What have you got there, you little queer?"

Eddie took a step backwards but then there was Belch Huggins and Patrick Hockstetter, laughing and blocking his path. "Just leave me alone!" Eddie begged softly, knowing there was no way they were going to let him or the cake leave unscathed.

Victor Criss cackled as he spotted what was written on the cake in rainbow frosting. "Happy Birthday, Trashmouth?' Hey, even their pack of losers knows that Bucky Beaver is total garbage." He ripped the cake out of Eddie's hands forcefully, smirking as he pretended to admire it in the light.

Henry snickered as he looked it over. "God, that's the gayest looking cake I've ever seen. Looks like you'll turn into a fag after just one bite." He let some of the extra sprinkles dust his finger before flicking them away, feigning disgust.

"Perfect for Tozier, then." Patrick cackled, squeezing Eddie's arm hard enough that he knew there would be a bruise later. 

"Give it _back!"_ Eddie demanded, hands clenching into fists and lunging at Victor. Patrick and Belch held him back, tightening their grip on his arms so that he was unable to break free.

Victor smirked and handed the cake to Henry. "You heard him, right, Henry? He wants it back."

Henry smirked and held the cake in one hand, arching an eyebrow. "Oh, I'll give it to him, alright."

Eddie's heart sank as he realized what they were about to do. 

Henry smashed the cake into his face, smirking in a self satisfied manner as tears and rainbow icing dripped down the asthmatic boy's cheeks. "How's it taste, you little faggot?"

Eddie grit his teeth in anguish, watching as bits of the ruined cake they had all worked so hard on slipped down onto the floor, the message now too smeared to read. 

"You hear what I said, you little queer? Answer me when I'm talking to you, how's it _taste?"_ He grabbed a fistful of Eddie's hair and yanked, the smaller boy giving a sharp instinctive cry of pain. He cringed in disgust as he heard and felt Patrick spit on him.

"I bet you liked it, huh. You _love_ having Tozier's sloppy mess all over your face, don't you? Anybody could see how fucking gone you are for Bucky Beaver. It's the nastiest shit I've ever seen, you following him around all the time like a lost little puppy." Henry smirked, pinching Eddie's chin between hard fingers and making him meet his eyes; cold, steely grey meeting teary, fearful brown.

"I saw him completely blow you off today, maybe he finally realized your disease is catching and got smart. He finally got sick of you."

Eddie's breath hitched at the words 'disease' and 'sick', backing up until his back hits a locker, trembling violently. "Sh...shut _up!"_ he protested in a soft gasp, feeling lightheaded and trapped. He became immediately aware that he was a mess, covered in cake, tears, and Patrick's loogie. All he wanted in that moment was the chance to get _clean,_ because if he was clean, then he was healthy, if he was healthy he wasn't _sick sick sick,_ and if he wasn't sick maybe Richie would love him...!

"What was that, wheezy? Uh oh, sounds like somebody's not feeling too good, are th- _OOF!"_ Henry's words were cut off as a lithe body came out of nowhere and slammed into his, knocking him over in a tackle that any high school football player would be impressed with.

"Leave him the _fuck_ alone!" Richie seethed, body trembling in rage even as he drew his fist back and socked Henry in the face.

Eddie's eyes widened in horror, taking the opportunity to shake Patrick and Belch off of him while their attention was on Henry and Richie. 

The motormouth had gotten to his feet, only to viciously kick Henry in the gut while he was down. "Learned that one from your fucking dad!" He hissed, before Belch, Victor, and Patrick descended upon him.

Eddie rushed to the group, squirming and trying to get in between them and Richie, because he couldn't bear to see him get hurt, not for him. An elbow caught him sharply in the throat and he collapsed, grabbing onto Richie's arm as he did and unintentionally tearing his sleeve and simultaneously tugging him to the ground.

It was perfect timing, for in that moment, Mr. Daniels exited the teacher's lounge down the hall. "Bowers! Huggins! Criss! Hockstetter! What is the _meaning_ of this?! Get off of them this instant-!" The middle aged man tore Patrick and Henry backwards, the latter bearing a split lip and a furious expression.

"You two are dead for this, you fucking hear me? Dead!" He screamed, even as Mr. Daniels ushered the four bullies to the principal's office. 

"Tozier, Kaspbrak, go to the nurse! I'll send her down once these four have been severely talked to." He said sternly.

Once they were gone, the hallway was silent.

Richie got to his feet, trembling in rage, before he sighed and reached down for Eddie's hand. "C'mon. Up you go."

Eddie took the offered hand numbly, standing unsteadily. "Th...thanks." He mumbled, still feeling dirty and beyond disgusting.

Richie nodded dismissively and turned to walk away, even as something bubbled hotly in Eddie's stomach. Rage? Vomit? Perhaps both, but whatever it was, he snapped. He couldn't believe Richie was seriously going to go back to pretending he didn't exist, and his feelings bubbled over like a volcanic eruption.

"Where the _fuck_ do you think you're going? Seriously? You're just going to swoop in, save the day, and then go back to ignoring me some more? What the fuck, Richie, what did I _do?"_ he shrieked, hands clenching into tight fists. "Whatever I did, I'm fucking _sorry,_ okay? I'm sorry for always being annoying about germs, and I'm sorry for not being straight like you, and I'm... I'm s-sorry-" Tears had begun to pour down his cheeks and he wiped them away, smearing frosting all over his hands and increasing the itchy feeling in his back. "I'm sorry for having a fucking crush on you, I know you're disgusted by it, by _me,_ but I don't understand _why?_ You didn't care when Mike came out as ace, or when Bill and Bev came out as pan, so why do you care that I'm bisexual?!" 

Richie just stared at him, jaw dropped and looking so honestly _lost._ He looked like he had just been hit by a train. "E-Eddie, I _don't_ care that you're bi! That's not what this is about at all!" He went to lay his hand on Eddie's shoulder but the shorter of the two violently turned away.

"Then what _is_ this about, huh? You act like everything's okay and then suddenly you won't even say hi to me in the hallways? Won't wait for me so we can ride our bikes to school together? I thought you were my friend!" Eddie wailed, anger and hurt roiling off him in waves.

Richie looked utterly stricken, taking a small step forward. "I _am_ your friend!"

Eddie took in a heaving breath, pulling his inhaler out of his fanny pack and breathing off of it heavily. He was crying again and he just knew he must look like a freak. "Are you, Richie? Are you really? You act like everything is totally fine, then your birthday comes and you suddenly won't...even...talk to me....?" he trailed off, the volume of his voice lowering as something occurred to him in an instant. "Richie."

The taller boy's attention darted to him in an instant, having moved back about five feet away from him in the hallway and looking like a stiff breeze could knock him over. His right sleeve was ripped, and Eddie realized he had never seen Richie wear long sleeves, especially since it was nearly June.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"Your soulmark. What does it say?" he asked stiffly.

Richie's face went _white._

"None of your business." he retorted, trying to sound firm but mostly just sounding scared.

Eddie's mouth was dry, but he spoke with conviction. "Oh, I think it _is_ my business, Richie. You know why? Because I think that you and I are fucking _soulmates_ and you weren't even going to tell me! Am I _that_ fucking disgusting to you that you'd rather just-"

Richie cut him off, looking furious. "Don't _say_ shit like that about yourself!"

Eddie spun away, fingernails digging into his palms from the force at which he was clenching his fists. "Why shouldn't I? It's _true!_ It has to be! I'm a scrawny, weak, sick little _queer_ and not even my best friend would want to be stuck with me! You must think it, too, why else would you be acting like this?!" He asked desperately, feeling like he was on the verge of just passing out. 

Richie's hand clamped tightly around his wrist in a death grip as Eddie made as if to run away. "Eddie.....Eddie, _no._ I just...oh, fuck. Wait a second." He released him and began to tug up his torn sleeve so that Eddie could see bandages around his wrist.

Eddie's heart sank and he spat furiously. "Oh, _great._ I'm so undesirable that when you found out we were soulmates you _cut yourself!?_ Fuck _you,_ Richie Tozier, I don't want to _see!_ I think I understand enough!"

Richie narrowed his eyes as he finished removing the bandages. "No. You don't. You don't understand _anything!"_ he yelled back, shoving his wrist under Eddie's nose so that he could read the words etched there. 

_'Richie, please. For the last time, don't call me Spaghetti Man. You know how I...'_

"You see? Do you get it now?! It's _my fault!_ I do something fucking stupid and you end up _dying_ for it, are you happy now?!" He yelled, but there were tears leaking out from under the frame of his thick glasses. "I just...I just wanted to keep you _alive,_ dammit!"

Eddie's words were caught in his throat as he read Richie's soulmark, over and over. He bit his lip and looked up at Richie, face unreadable.

"Do...do you seriously mean to tell me..." he began, face going slack with disbelief.

Richie flinched, awaiting a slap or maybe even a punch to the face.

"...that right now, I've got fucking _Spaghetti Man_ permanently tattooed on my body!? FOR FUCKING SERIOUS!?" His voice got so high pitched with incredulity and shock that Richie couldn't help but snicker through his tears.

"U-Um. Yeah, I'm pretty sure you do."

Eddie breathed heavily, making a frustrated noise and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. You and I are going to need to have a serious chat about responsibility. For one, this soulmark doesn't automatically mean that me dying is your fault, okay? You can't fucking control that, you have no way of knowing it was your fault, and even if it was, I don't even care. It's not something you can control. Your _shitty nicknames,_ on the other hand, are _entirely_ your fault and now I have to wear the fucking thing on me for life!"

Richie blinked, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I-I was trying to avoid you so that after long enough, they would eventually change-"

 _"FOR. LIFE."_ Eddie emphasized, grabbing Richie's hand tightly. "If what you're saying right now is that you don't think I'm gross and you were just trying to be a self sacrificing idiot to protect me, then yes. For fucking life I will wear that stupid nickname. And you know what? I will do so _happily."_ Eddie trailed off, looking hesitant and even smaller that usual, as though all the fury and energy had abruptly gone out of him. "U-Unless, of course, you don't-"

Richie cut him off by grabbing the collar of his stupid polo shirt and tugging him into a bruising kiss, his thumb wiping away icing and tear tracks. "I do, I want to, I want _you_ as my soulmate, even if you are like four feet tall-"

"-five feet, two inches and a quarter, you prick!" Eddie retorted hotly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And even if you do carry around a fucking pharmacy on your hip, or wear booty shorts and knee socks, or get excited because your new hand sanitizer smells like cucumber, I will _always_ want you as my soulmate, okay?" Richie carried on as if he hadn't been interrupted, wearing a relaxed grin. "I was so excited when I first saw it I almost started crying."

Eddie gave a small smile, heart fluttering in his chest. "You...you did?"

Richie nodded, still wearing that goofy, lovestruck smile. "For real, Spaghetti Man."

Eddie huffed, looking put out. "Apparently it's not worth the effort to get you to quit saying that, since you clearly don't stop even up to my literal deathbed."

Richie chuckled. "Y'got that right, Eds. Just save your energy for the next time Bowers sees us, he's gonna be _pissed."_

Eddie rolled his eyes, still not letting go of Richie's hand. "And I'm not even the one who punched him. If you would have just come to the party, I wouldn't have had to take the cake to the home ec room."

Richie stuck his tongue out at him good naturedly. "We can make another one. Only this time, let's try to do the whole cake in rainbow colors! Bowers though _this_ cake was the gayest, I bet we can prove him wrong. It'll be like a gay pride parade in cake form!"

Eddie hummed lightly in thought as they walked hand in hand towards the nurse's office. They didn't speak for a moment, both content and happy.

"By the way, I like dick."

"Really? I thought you preferred the nickname 'Richie' over 'Dick', but it's your name, man, do you. 'Richard' is too formal for you anyway."

Richie laughed loudly. "Yowza! Eddie 'Ready For Anything' Spaghetti Kaspbrak gets off a good one!"

Eddie tried to hold out a straight face but dissolved into laughter as well. 

The two of them must have appeared crazy to any onlookers. Eddie was still covered in rainbow frosting and small bits of cake and sprinkles, and Richie with half unraveled bandages and a torn shirt sleeve, Henry Bowers' blood drying on his knuckles.

They probably looked like a couple of Losers, but they wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
